Now a residence for BC and BCOF items. Random bloggisness wil apear in POTPOURRI. |
Today's blog is a combination of the prompts for BCOF and Blog City. Believe it or not, it's a true story. (almost) When I was a little boy, about 3 or 4, I was teaching myself to write cursive. I was doing very well and decided to show Mommy my current manuscript. Well, when she saw it she said it was just a bunch of squiggly lines. What? That didn't sound right. I knew exactly what it said. That's when I began wondering what was wrong with Mom. Did she have a vision problem or was she just illiterate? When I got older I realized that there are many things a child knows that adults are just not capable of understanding. It was a dreadful experience to grow up. Remembering all those fantastic things I used to know. Feeling them slipping away. Luckily, I still remember that the things I knew as a child were true. I'm not as narrow minded as most adults. I'm eager to listen to everything kids have to say; I'm eager to learn. I've forgotten the language I had at 3 or 4, the one I showed to Mommy. I would have taught it to her if she hadn't been so stubborn. If I could learn any language in the world, I would relearn the language of childhood. Maybe then it would be easier to communicate with children. I've still go so much to learn. |